


The Trouble with Chronology

by parchmentandoldbooks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parchmentandoldbooks/pseuds/parchmentandoldbooks
Summary: A mishap with a time-turner is enough to destroy even the best laid plans.Working on a Ministry mission to recover a time turner from Lestrange Manor, Draco and Hermione are eager to finish the job. When a blunder sends them back to an unknown time, will the two be able to work together to find their way back home?*Finished fic, chapters will be posted weekly!*





	1. Chapter One

“Bloody fucking hell, I can’t believe the Chosen Git assigned me to work on this case with you of all people!” 

“Trust me, Malfoy, I’m not happy about this either, but sometimes we have to grow up and get over having to interact with certain people we don’t like” 

“Ahh, yes, right on time. Please tell me more about how much smarter and more mature you are than the rest of us mere mortals, Granger. You’re so damn predictable with that ‘holier than thou’ routine you insist on keeping up.”

“I’ll have you know Draco Sodding Malfoy-” Hermione yelled, before Harry’s voice cut her off. 

“Oi! Listen up! The two of you are best aurors we have, and we need nothing less for this case. I don’t care how much you hate each other, or if Malfoy is being a ferret, until this assignment is finished, you’re going to be partners. Now, if we’re all finished throwing tantrums, we can begin,” he finished, raising his eyebrows in a manner strikingly similar to the way he looked at his children. 

“Fine, Harry. You owe me for this one,” Hermione grumbled, shooting daggers at her blonde haired coworker. 

“Potter, as if I wasn’t already predisposed to dislike you, I’m sure I’ll end up wanting you dead by the end of this,” Draco replied, returning Hermione’s glare with one of his own. 

“What a tragic day that will be,” Harry added dryly, rolling his eyes before passing two folders across his desk. 

“We have evidence that there is a time turner hidden somewhere in this property,” Harry continued, lifting a photo of a decaying manor out of his own folder, “Rumor has it the house once belonged to a family that associated with Death Eaters, and Voldemort might have ordered one to be placed there.” Harry paused, and Hermione couldn’t help but feel like he was doing it only for the dramatic effect. “The house itself was all but destroyed during the War, but there are still plenty of places it could be hiding. I’m sure I don’t need to remind the two of you how important the recovery of time turners is, and that this mission is of the highest priority.” 

“Right, Potter, you mean to tell me that there’s ‘evidence’ that a time turner has been secreted away into this pile of rubbish, and yet you have no ‘evidence’ that could make it easier for Einstein and I to find the damn thing? You know they’re bloody tiny, right? You’re sending us to search for a needle in a fucking haystack, Golden Boy Wonder,” Malfoy whined, looking none too pleased at the idea of picking through ruins. 

“Thanks for the compliment, Malfoy,” Hermione drawled, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, Harry, the ferret is on to something. How are we going to find it, especially when we have to be covert about it all? It’s not likely that a simple retrieval charm is going to do the work for us.” 

“Ah, yes. That’s where the two of you come in. Draco, you’re intimately familiar with the hiding spots of rich people. Hermione, you can keep that one in line,” Harry sighs, closing his folder and propping his feet on his desk. 

“Right then, Potty, the two of us will be off while you’re living a low stress life of relaxation in your fancy little office. Let’s go, Granger,” Draco seethed, abruptly standing and moving to the door. 

Hermione was quick to follow, shooting Harry one last angry look before following her temporary partner into the atrium of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

“Keep up, Granger, I have plans for tomorrow night that don’t involve camping in some ruddy shack with you,” Draco called over his shoulder as he stalked out of the office and towards the lifts. 

“Damn ferret,” Hermione muttered, quietly so that Draco wouldn’t hear. 

“Oh, and Granger, that wasn’t a compliment, it was an observation regarding the general state of that mop you call hair,” He said, gesturing to the pile of chaos Hermione had managed to coax into a bun. 

“It’s only temporary, Hermione. You just have to make it through this case and then you can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist,” Hermione reminded herself, repeating it like a mantra to dull the intensity of her desire to kill the git. 

“I suppose I should be thankful to Harry for this.”

“I’m going to do my best to pretend that you didn’t say that, Granger. I cannot think of a single reason being forced to work with a bushy haired, know-it-all is advantageous for either party.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be singing a different tune as soon as I save your arse from the threat of danger. I was, however, referring to the happy coincidence that ferrets are quite adept at digging which will probably prove to be useful given the circumstances.” Hermione quipped, barely stifling a giggle. 

“How charming of you, Granger. I see the constant time spent among the Weaselbees has greatly tarnished your sense of humor,” Draco mocked, grabbing Hermione’s arm before apparating away from the Ministry of Magic in a blur. 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
They landed just outside a small, dreary town that had clearly been supported entirely by the large estate they had been sent to search. It didn’t look like the cluster of sagging buildings down the lane would offer them any help, as most of the windows had been boarded up. Hermione wasn’t entirely surprised; she supposed that if the Death Eaters had taken up residence in the biggest house the rest of the locals probably left soon after. 

“How charming,” Draco stated dryly, setting off toward the dilapidated mansion at the opposite end of the road. 

“Alright then, where do you reckon they might have hid something as valuable as a time turner?” Hermione asked, feeling an abnormal sense of nervousness wash over her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand. 

“Anywhere but the vault,” Draco replied, not bothering to make eye contact as he gingerly stepped over debris that had fallen onto the walkway. 

“Really? Isn’t that what vaults were built for, to protect important things?”

“Obviously, Granger. That’s exactly why rich people don’t actually store their most valuable things in vaults, they’re the first place anyone would look for things worth stealing.” Draco replied, sounding rather bored with Hermione’s apparent ignorance. “The wards and enchantments are generally enough to keep intruders occupied long enough for the most important things to be moved somewhere safe.” 

Hermione didn’t reply, she refusing to stoke Malfoy’s ego any further by admitting that he had a point. It wasn’t like it was a result of his own cleverness anyway; he had simply been born into a wealthy family where that sort of knowledge would have been mandatory. 

“Well, fuck,” Draco muttered, trying unsuccessfully to unlock the front door. 

Hermione huffed, shoving past him and giving her own wand a neat wave “Honestly, Malfoy, are you that staggeringly incapable of doing simple magic?”. 

She waited to hear the tell-tale click, feeling confident that she had shown up her obnoxious partner, feeling sick as the silence stretched on. 

“Huh. Would you look at that, even Hermione ‘You’re All A Bunch Of Bloody Idiots’ Granger can’t unlock the door. It has obviously been enchanted with extra protections so that it isn’t possible for anyone with a wand to enter, you bimbo.” Draco drawled, leaning against the railing of the porch with a particularly irritating smirk. 

“Would it actually kill you to be less than an absolute arse? You are so ridiculously lucky that I cannot strangle you with my bare hands right now.” 

“Regardless of how kinky that sounds, I think it might be a worthwhile idea to go around back, Granger. We don’t want any passers-by to see two miscreants up to no good in front of the creepy house, do we?” 

Without bothering to reply, Hermione turned on her heel and stomped to the corner of the house, pausing to make sure her partner wasn’t abandoning her. They walked in silence, Draco having quickly outpaced Hermione’s strides with his own, trying to minimize the noise of crunching leaves underfoot, both on high alert.

When they had rounded the rear corner, the overgrown gardens gave way to a large patio that surrounded the skeletal remains of a once grand conservatory. 

“How lucky, it seems like we’ve found our ticket in,” Draco whispered, casting a wary glance at the thick tangle of shrubs that had knotted themselves together in their neglect. 

Hermione was secretly glad that Draco seemed to be as nervous as she is; a fog had settled itself around the grounds, which had brought an unshakable feeling of apprehension with it. A small voice in the back of her head nagged Hermione to be vigilant, reminding her that this was the perfect opportunity for anything to go wrong. 

“Maybe one of us should send a patronus to Harry, just to let him know that we’ve found a way in.” 

“Alright then, Granger, be my guest. I certainly won’t be communicating with Saint Potter by choice any time soon.” 

Rolling her eyes, Hermione cast the spell, sending a silvery otter sailing off into the mist towards the Ministry of Magic. As she watched her patronus disappear, Hermione couldn’t help but shiver. 

As if he had read her mind, Draco suddenly whispered, “It’s gotten cold out here, we should probably get inside before we both die of exposure.” 

Hermione followed him through a missing window, careful not to cut herself on the shards of glass still clinging to the iron. 

“It looks like whoever lived here left in quite a hurry,” Draco said, pausing at a table still set up for a meal. 

“You have no idea who it was?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean, Granger? Just because my family was involved with the Dark Lord doesn’t mean that I have some sort of mental encyclopedia of every manor and country home!” Draco snapped, stalking off towards the doorway. 

“That’s not what I meant, Draco. Harry said that there was a connection with Voldemort, so it must’ve been a family with some amount of power and influence, even among the Death Eaters. It’s not likely that Voldemort would have picked a cozy little cottage to settle down in.”

“That’s not likely to be very helpful. He moved around frequently, especially when he was still weak. I’m sure most of the wealthy purebloods played house with old Voldy at some point or another.” 

Hermione couldn’t stop the dry laugh that bubbled up out of her throat.

Draco turned to glare at her, clearly unhappy to be the butt of a joke, “Excuse me for interrupting, but what the fuck are you laughing about, Granger? Has a ghost just told a good knock-knock joke?” 

“It’s nothing really. I just had imagined Voldemort dressing up for pretend tea with some stuffed toys.”

“As positively hilarious as that thought is, we have a job to be doing that does not involve standing around fantasizing about Voldemort,” Draco scolded her, stepping into the hallway. 

“In that case, Malfoy, where would you hide an illegal time turner? A secret brick inside of a fireplace? An heirloom teapot? A hollowed out book?” she asked, hurrying to catch up with her partner. 

“Stop being ridiculous. I’d hide it in my mattress, where anyone else would hide something of such great value?” Draco replied flatly, as if it were a well known fact, as he followed the hallway towards the middle of the house. 

Hermione followed quietly, taking in the ruins of the house around her. 

“It’s awfully sad, isn’t it. A house like this falling apart because there isn’t anyone left to take care of it,” She mused, wondering what the house might have looked like at the height of its splendor. 

“A sweet sentiment, but sometimes houses like these die for a reason. Maybe they left by choice, it’s possible the skeletons in the closets became too much.” Draco muttered, trailing off. 

Hermione didn’t want to press him any further, it seemed like something far too personal to discuss with Draco Malfoy, of all people. She supposed he had a point though, no matter how beautiful a house was, it would probably be hard to erase such a dark spot from its history. 

They make their way up a grand staircase, stopping when they come to the large, open landing. 

“This way, Granger,” Malfoy commanded gruffly, turning to the left. 

“How do you know that? I thought you said you’d never been here before.” Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a fresh wave of panic that stopped her in her tracks. 

“Relax, Granger, I’m not luring you into a trap. That vase is a reproduction,” he said, pointing to a large vase decorated with intricate scrollwork, “but that one, is the real deal. You’d never display fakes near guestrooms, otherwise you’d be asking for social embarrassment. Obviously this family had to sell off a few of their good pieces to fund other activities,” he answered coolly, making Hermione feel dense once again. 

“Are you an expert at antique vases then?” Hermione asked, trying to get under Malfoy’s skin. 

“Don’t be daft. I’m an expert about rich people, purebloods in particular. There are plenty of tricks some families use to try to keep up appearances, but the really rich can see right through it all.” 

She decided that it probably wouldn’t pay her any compliments to tell Draco that she didn’t see a difference. Rather Hermione decided to her head in solemn agreement. 

Walking along, they finally come to a set of double doors at the far end of the hall. Without hesitation Draco threw them open, coughing when a cloud of dust erupted into the air. 

“Cheers.” He muttered as he paused in the doorway, before flicking his wand and filling the room with light. 

As Hermione stepped across the threshold, another wave of uncertainty washed over her. It felt wrong to be rummaging through someone’s bedroom, the most intimate room in their home, for something that may or may not even exist. 

“I have a bad feeling about this, Malfoy,” Hermione warned, hoping that he would agree with her hesitation. 

“I do too, Granger. I’ve had it since we stepped past the front gate. It’s probably just an enchantment meant to distract unwelcome visitors.” Draco answered, sounding confident that there was nothing more malicious. 

Despite the assuredness of his statement, the look in his eyes and the lack of Hermione’s knowledge of any such charm did little to convince her. But before she could protest, Draco had already begun rummaging under the mattress, shoving back the moth eaten bed covers unceremoniously. 

“Aha! I knew I’d find the little bugger here,” Draco drawled smugly, withdrawing his hand from the crevice, a golden time turner gleaming in the hazy sunlight. 

“Perfect. Now we just need to get this back to Harry and we can pretend like none of this ever happened.” Hermione sighed, dreaming of a hot bath and a large glass of wine. 

“How positively prudish of you. I thought we might have a little fun before we run back to Potty.” 

“Absolutely not, Malfoy. Time Turners are not toys! They can cause catastrophes if used recklessly!”

“And yet that never stopped anyone from letting you play with one in fourth-year,” Draco shot back, rolling his eyes. “Besides, if we end up sending the world to absolute shit, we can just come back to this very moment and stop ourselves,” he continued, draping one of the delicate gold chains around his neck. 

“You’re out of your mind! We can’t come back and stop ourselves! If we were to see our future selves it would cause a rift in time! Give me that bloody time turner so that we can leave!” Hermione shouted, attempting to pull it off of Draco’s neck. 

“Ouch, woman! Alright, you win!” he conceded as he began lifting the chain back over his head. 

Before Draco could could completely remove the turner, a loud crash came from outside of the bedroom. Hermione jumped suddenly, yanking on the chain once more. With that final tug, the small screw holding the rings in place popped off, sending the pieces to the floor with a rich ring. 

Before Hermione had a chance to react, the room started spinning around them, a dizzying blur of color and movement that sent a sickening jolt of panic straight to her stomach. 

“What the hell is going on Granger?” Draco demanded, grabbing her arm and pulling her alongside him. 

“It looks like you got your wish, after all, Draco.” 

“What the fuck does that mean!? I wish for plenty of things!” 

“We’re going back in time and we’re absolutely fucked, Malfoy,” Hermione snapped, trying to figure out how they were going to get out of this mess.


	2. Chapter 2

When the room finally came to a halt, Hermione felt faint. She could hardly recognize the room now that it had been brought back to life around her. The walls had returned to a powdery, robin’s egg blue and there were sumptuous gold curtains framing the windows. The busted up furniture had been replaced with two velvet armchairs that seemed to be begging Hermione to take a seat in them. 

The sound of voices coming from the open windows sent a jolt of panic through Hermione as she suddenly realized that they were stuck in who knows when, with no way of getting back to their proper timeline. 

“Shit! We need to get out of here, now,” Hermione whispered, moving towards the door to listen for anyone in the hall. 

“Not yet, Granger.” 

“What do you mean ‘not yet’, Malfoy? Apparently you’ve missed the fact that we’re complete strangers, wearing strange clothing, standing in someone’s bedroom, whom we have never met. We don’t exactly have ample time to waste in making some sort of escape.” 

“First, the way I see it; we have nothing but time. Second, all we need to do is find the time turner and use it to get back to when we belong,” Draco replied, sounding completely bored with their situation. 

“Fine. Look for the bloody time turner while I try to figure out what we’re going to do to get out of here in the entirely likely event that it isn’t shoved under the bloody mattress!” 

Draco didn’t reply, simply making his way back to the mattress and reaching underneath it for the second time. While Hermione would have usually revelled in being right, she felt her heart sink as her companion continued to search with no avail. 

“Well bloody-fucking-hell, you were right again, Granger. The damn thing isn’t here.” 

“Is there anywhere else you might hide it? You’re the expert on rich people!” Hermione pleaded, growing slightly hysterical. 

“Calm down, Hermione. I recognize that it seems like we’re fucked, but we’ll find a way out of this, alright?”

Hermione was strangely calmed by Draco’s promise, even though it didn’t make their situation any better. Feeling slightly encouraged by the fact that she wasn’t in this alone, she tried to think of anything that might help them. Malfoy stealthily made his way about the room, checking various nooks and crannies, always coming up empty. 

“I don’t think it’s in here, Granger. I can’t find any other hiding places, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to test the efficacy of the wards; given our current predicament.” 

“Alright then, I think we need to sneak out,” she decided, knowing that if they didn’t make their way out of the room before its occupants returned they would be in for far more trouble. 

“So, what do you reckon, we try our best to sneak out unseen and obliviate anyone who stumbles across us?” 

“No! We can’t make drastic changes to history! It’s already bad enough that we’ve gone back more than a few hours, but we absolutely cannot do anything reckless.” 

“Then what else do you propose, Granger?” 

“Well, we need to try to blend in. Hopefully we can slip out for now until we can figure out just who and when we’re up against,” Hermione replied, walking over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room. 

“What in the hell are you doing? Now is not the time to play dress-up!”

“You’re not going to like this, Malfoy, but now is exactly the time to play dress up,” Hermione answered, lifting a gown out of the wardrobe and showing it to Draco. “If we want to stand any chance of getting out of here unnoticed I think we’ll need to be dressed in something a little more timely, don’t you think?” 

“I’m going to fucking murder Potter for this,” Draco grumbled, as he crossed the room to join her in front of the wardrobe. 

Within minutes the two had changed out of their own clothes and into their borrowed ones. Not wanting to leave any trace behind, Hermione quickly vanished their belongings before tucking her wand into her dress. 

“These pants are absolutely ridiculous,” Draco grumbled, turning around to face her. He did look strange, wearing a pair of tight velvet breeches with silk stockings tucked into them. Hermione did her best to look sympathetic, but couldn’t completely contain the grin that spread across her face. 

“Of course, it’s all very funny. We’ll see how long you’re laughing in that corset of yours.”

“Oh, I’m not wearing a bloody corset, Malfoy. They’re barbaric and one would only get in our way,” she replied flippantly. Rather than retort with something snarky as she expected, Malfoy only gave her a funny look that she couldn’t read before turning toward the door. 

“Alright, Granger, better late than never, I suppose,” he breathed before turning one of the polished handles and pushing the door slightly open. After a pause to ensure that there was no one in the hall, Draco took hold of Hermione’s arm, pulling her back into the hall. 

Hermione couldn’t believe that she was in the same house, everything was well decorated and light. The must and mold that had plagued the house when they arrived was gone, now the air smelled fresh and clean. 

“It would seem that whoever is the current occupant of this house has yet to run into money troubles” Draco whispered, nodding in the direction of a vase that looked nearly identical to the one that they had passed on the way in. 

“Do you think that means this is an ancestral home?” 

“It’s irrelevant, really. Because we can reliably assume that it belongs to a pureblood family, it’s unlikely that it changed hands much, if ever.” 

“Well then, shouldn’t that give us some clue as to which family it could have been? If we’re going off of the list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight we can already rule out the Malfoys, the Weasleys, and the Longbottoms.”

“All true. There’s also no way that this house belonged to the Parkinsons, or the Notts, and I’m sure that it wasn’t one of the Gaunts’ if Voldemort decided to stay here.” 

Before they could make anymore progress narrowing down their list, voices approached from the end of the hallway. Panicked, Hermione pulled Draco into the nearest doorway, choosing one that led to a broom closet, of all possibilities. 

“Rather cozy, isn’t it?” 

“Kindly shut up, Malfoy.” 

Hermione pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear anything that might offer some help. 

“Anyway, Hortensia, I’m very hopeful that tonight I can convince some of the Wizengamot to see that their Department of Mysteries is purely frivolous. This whole party is just the setting for a battle of political wits,” a man said, his voice growing louder and then quieting as the rhythmic thuds of his footfalls passed in front of the door. 

“Draco, I think I know where we are,” Hermione whispered, craning her neck to look at the blond man, who looked none too pleased to be cooped up in such a tiny room. 

“I can’t believe it took you so long to figure out that we’re in a bloody broom closet. Did you have it confused with the parlor?” 

“Not that, you idiot; I think that we’re in Lestrange Manor. That man was just talking about the Department of Mysteries with a woman named Hortensia. It only makes sense that it would be Radolphus, we must be here at some point during his office,” Hermione explained, glaring at his indifference. 

“Brilliant. Now we just need to stroll over to old Rad and ask to borrow his time turner; he always seemed like a pretty understanding sort of fellow.” 

“What about ‘we absolutely cannot do anything that could alter the course of history’ did you not understand? If someone sees us using the time turner to get out of here,” she hissed, gesturing to the dark room around them, “it would give us away. We’re going to have to find the time turner and use it on our own, with no help from anyone else.” 

“I guess we’d better resign ourselves to life as poor hermits then, Granger. There’s no way we can just scour the entire house looking for it without anyone seeing us.” 

“You’re being an idiot again. Radolphus is hosting a party tonight, we can use that as our cover to get us into the house. From the snippet I heard it seems like he’ll be too occupied with trying to make political moves to notice a few party goers slip away.” 

“Fine, but you’d better get comfortable.”

“What are you talking about? I thought the plan was to sneak out until later when people start arriving?” 

“Think, Granger. We’re in Lestrange Manor. There are all sorts of nasty wards that would be sure to give us away. We must’ve gotten through them without alarm when we came back in time, but I’m sure we wouldn’t be so lucky if we tried it a second time.” 

“Don’t you think that we should at least find somewhere better to hide?” 

“Of course not. With all the commotion of party set up happening downstairs I seriously doubt that anyone will be coming up to the second floor broom closet for anything. I think you found us the ideal little burrow,” Draco sighed, settling on the floor in an obvious show that he won’t be moving anytime soon. 

Sensing that no amount of protest would motivate Malfoy to change his mind, Hermione decided to follow his lead, trying to find a moderately comfortable spot on the floor. There didn’t seem to be any manner of sitting that didn’t result in Hermione’s leg resting along Draco’s, and she suddenly found herself feeling very grateful that there wasn’t much light in the room. 

“Why are you blushing, Granger? Haven’t you spent plenty of time pressed close to Ronald in cramped closets?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Malfoy.” 

“Oh, come off it. I can feel the heat rolling off of you in waves.” 

“Perhaps you’re feeling my body heat, it’s a perfectly natural phenomenon. There is absolutely no reason why I would be blushing.” 

“But you are, Granger. I’d be willing to bet anything that you’re blushing even more now that I’ve pointed it out.” 

“That’s absurd. You couldn’t see anything, even if I were blushing; which I am most definitely not.” 

To Hermione’s dismay, Draco pulled out his wand; giving it a small flick that illuminated the room with a painfully bright glow. 

“Just as I thought,” He said, leaning back against the wall with a satisfied smirk. 

“Go to Hell, Malfoy,” she grumbled, crossing her arms and refusing to look at him.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Granger. It would be unnatural to not be attracted to me.”

“For the last time. I. Am. Not. Attracted. To. You. I’m only flushed because it’s warm in this closet and this dress doesn’t breathe.” 

“Sure, Granger. You know you’re going to have to embrace it if you expect anyone to believe that we’re married.”

“What- What in the FUCK are you talking about? There’s no way that I would ever marry you.” 

“Relax, Hermione, you aren’t actually marrying me; you only have to pretend. There’s no way it would be appropriate for us to arrive together and go sneaking about unless we were siblings or married. If not for my strong Malfoy looks, we might have been able to pull siblings off, but we’ll just have to be the picture of married bliss instead,” He concluded, looking infuriatingly smug at her obvious discomfort with this plan. 

“I am seriously beginning to doubt that this day could get any worse.” 

Over the next few hours, Hermione refused to interact with Draco any more than she was forced to. She found herself frequently shifting so as to move her body away from his. She tried to convince herself that the discomfort was entirely the result of the dress and the hard floor, but she couldn’t help noticing how firm the muscles of Draco’s thigh were as they pressed against her own. 

After an eternity spent in the stuffy chamber, Draco rose and smoothed out his clothing. He extended a hand to her, helping to lift her off of the floor without getting tangled in her skirts. 

“Well, Mrs. Malfoy; I daresay neither of us are dressed appropriately enough to be crashing the Minister’s party,” Draco drawled, lifting a bit of Hermione’s linen skirt and letting it fall. 

Wordlessly he transfigured her dress, replacing the simple day outfit with an elegant sage green gown. The fabric was embroidered with an intricate silver brocade and the low cut bodice hugged Hermione’s torso tightly. 

“You really should try to do something with this hair, Granger,” Draco murmured, twisting and tucking sections of her hair into something that resembled a hairstyle. 

“Speaking of hair,” Hermione grumbled, “aren’t you worried that yours is going to give you away? Isn’t that white blonde hair the pride of the Malfoy family? It seems like it might be prudent to use a glamour charm so that you might blend in a little better.”

“Not a chance, Granger. I’d look absolutely terrible with any other hair color, and a glamour wouldn’t work anyways.” 

“Oh please, Malfoy, even your immense vanity isn’t a strong enough force to stop magic from working.” 

“That isn’t it, witch. It is a different type of magic entirely that would keep it from working.” Draco said stiffly. For some reason, unknown to Hermione, he seemed to be entirely uncomfortable with their conversation. Never wanting to be out of the loop on anything, Hermione was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

“What in the hell do you mean, Malfoy? What on Earth could possibly prevent you from changing your hair color?” 

“I’m part fucking Veela. Alright, Granger? I can’t change my hair color because the color is a ‘gift’ from my heritage, or some other bollocks.” 

At this, Hermione laughed so loudly that she feared she had blown their cover. “You’re part Veela, why didn’t you say so? Perhaps the best course of action is for you to waltz into the party and do some special dance to distract everyone then.” 

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, Granger.” Draco growled, his eyes a deep charcoal, “I may have the beauty and charm of a Veela, but the attraction that anyone feels towards me is entirely the fault of their own.” He finished, giving her a look that made it clear what his statement implied. 

“Lucky for me then, I’ve never understood the fascination with Veelas.” Hermione shot back, desperately trying to convince the both of them that she really didn’t feel any sort of attraction to Draco. 

“You know, we aren’t going to be able to use your last name, Draco. I’d be willing to bet that there will be some Malfoys in attendance, and even if there aren’t the name would still draw unwanted attention.” she added, trying to shift the subject away from anything regarding charm and beauty. 

“Right. I guess that means you think we should use yours instead?” 

“Seeing as I’m not part of some magical dynasty; I don’t think my name would draw near as much suspicion.” 

When Hermione turned back to him, Draco had already transformed his own attire, wearing a silver jacket and matching sage green waistcoat. While Hermione would never say it aloud, Draco looked rather dashing, like something out of a Jane Austen novel. 

“Fine, Granger. We’ll do it your way; although, I should remind you that wealthy wives of this day and age are meant to be seen, not heard,” He reminded her, smirking at her obvious disdain for the social customs of the day. “Please do allow me to accompany you on this fine evening, Madame Granger,” He added, giving her a funny little bow and extending one of his arms to her. 

Hermione followed him cautiously out into the hallway, relieved to finally be outside of the confines of the small closet. He quickly lead them back to the large staircase and down into the grand foyer where a number of other guests had begun congregating. 

They made their way to the edge of the room, cautiously surveying the other groups that had assembled there. Hermione was on edge, worried that one of them might slip up and betray their true identities. The fear only grew when a man with strikingly blond hair entered the room, easily commanding the attention of all the other guests. 

“I don’t suppose that’s your great-great grandfather over there, but the evidence certainly suggests it,” Hermione whispered, nodding in the man’s direction. 

“Well, from the looks of it, I’d say that’s old Septimus, the great bastard. I’m hardly surprised that he was here, he was a great patron of blood purity research, after all. I wouldn’t be shocked if the Department of Mysteries had been working on his behalf,” Draco muttered under his breath, moving in between Hermione and the rest of the guests. 

Hermione was surprised that Draco spoke so poorly of his own relative; it seemed like something decidedly un-Malfoy like. Still given Draco’s reaction she watched, with growing dread, as Septimus Malfoy drew ever closer. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ever had the fortune of meeting,” He declared with a bow, his voice a mask of polite interest, “Septimus Malfoy,” he finished, extending a hand to Draco. 

“Draco Granger, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my wife, Hermione,” he replied, coolly; gently pushing down on Hermione’s hip so that she lowered herself into a polite curtsey. She was too terrified to speak, but she figured that the most appropriate response would be to quietly study the flooring. 

“Granger...I can’t recall ever having met anyone named Granger before.” 

“Oh, you probably wouldn’t have. My family has never been very political.” 

“What a shame that is. With the radical ideas some of these traitors are floating around we need all the support we can gets” the older Malfoy states matter-of-factly. “You look like an upstanding sort of fellow, someone who looks remarkably similar to my own kin.” He added, eyeing Draco’s features suspiciously. 

“The resemblance is striking, indeed. If only my mother could hear that now, a man of such great power complimenting her son. I was a rather sickly child, and I have always feared that I never outgrew the symptoms of my sickness.” 

Mercifully, Radolphus emerged at the top of the stairs, interrupting their conversation. He seemed to be a rather cheerful man, but was clearly a bit eccentric, judging by the loud colors and strange clothing he was wearing. Hermione noticed Septimus stiffen as the Minister approached, making it even clearer that there was not a great deal of respect between them. Despite the obvious distaste for the Minister’s political agenda, Septimus was quick to move to him; a strategic arrangement that put him closer to power. 

In the absence of outsiders, Hermione decided it would be a good time to strategize their movements, “Where do you think he might keep it?”. 

“I can’t be too sure, but that chain around his neck looks awfully similar.”

Hermione turned, trying to catch a glimpse of the front of the man’s chest in between the bodies of those who had surrounded him. 

“Damn it, Draco. What are we going to do now? It’s not like we can very well waltz over and take it off him.” 

“I don’t know, Hermione. We might have to hang around until he goes to bed or something. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.” 

As much as Hermione didn’t like that idea, it seemed like it was the best option for them to avoid interacting with the other guests and still have a chance of getting to the time turner. Draco tried his best to distract her, dancing with her a few times and making sure that she had enough to drink. As the night wore on and the alcohol had its effects on her, Hermione found herself enjoying the party more. 

“I’m quite surprised at how pleasant this is, Draco,” she giggled as he spun her across the ballroom once more. “I never would have imagined that I would be stuck at some regency ball with you, of all people, although I must admit I’m glad that you overcame your sickness in time.” 

“Now, Mrs. Granger; that’s hardly a kind thing to say to your husband,” he teased, giving her a smile that seemed far more genuine than his typical smirk. 

“I seem to remember, Mr. Granger that you were less than enthused about accompanying me.” 

“Well, dearest, I didn’t sleep very well last night. It’s hard for me to be enthusiastic when I’m exhausted.” 

“That certainly doesn’t mean that you should treat anyone, let alone your wife, poorly. You certainly aren’t the only one who hasn’t been sleeping well.”

“You’re right, darling. Please forgive me,” Draco smiled, rubbing Hermione’s back as he led her around the room. 

Even though Hermione knew this was all an act, she couldn’t help but be surprised at Draco’s kindness. She found herself wondering if Draco was ever like this back at home, sweeping women off of their feet with his seemingly endless charm. 

Stop that, Hermione. He’s your co-worker; it is completely inappropriate to daydream about domestic Draco. Just because he’s handsome and has a tight arse does not mean that you should be thinking about him in any sort of way. She mentally chided herself, hoping to regain some level of professionalism. 

“What’s wrong, Granger? Did I step on your toes?” 

“What? No. My toes are all completely unharmed” 

“You’ve gone stiff on me. Do you want another drink?” He teased her, leading her to the side of the room and out of the midst of the other couples making sweeping passes across the floor. 

“No, thank you. I don’t want anything to get in the way of our mission. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to participate in all of the merriments,” she answered, gently smoothing the front of her dress. 

“Don’t be stupid, Granger. 150 years have already gotten in the way of our mission. Right now our focus has to be on blending in by doing things like dancing and drinking.” 

“Our new mission then, Draco. If we hope to get ahold of the thing we have to be vigilant. It’s not likely that we’ll just stumble across one lying on a table somewhere.” she snapped, hoping that no one had heard her speak so aggressively towards Draco. 

“Granger, dear. Is this really all about that embarrassment from earlier?”

“Absolutely not. I told you already, I’m not attracted to you, you git.” 

“Honestly, you’re going to have to tell your face not to give you away next time if you ever expect me to believe that, Granger.” 

Rather than try to protest, Hermione simply moved past him and makes her way back into the entry hall. 

What the fuck, Hermione?! She thought to herself furiously. There is no reason that you should be attracted to Draco Malfoy. Just because he put on some tight pants and spun you around a few times does not change the fact that he’s still the same ferret. 

As she stewed over her treacherous attraction, she tried to convince herself that it was all the result of close quarters and an unfortunate dry spell. I should really meet up with Viktor again, she thought; remembering the few nights they had spent together after her breakup with Ron. 

It shouldn’t matter that Draco was one of the most impressive aurors she had ever seen, easily surpassing Harry’s abilities (even though she would never admit it). It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the way that he had championed rebuilding efforts, spending hundreds of thousands of the Malfoy fortune on various projects to encourage public unity. The fact that he had written an open letter to the Wizarding World, supporting the imprisonment of Death Eaters while defending the actions of their children was not even part of her consideration. Most of all though, the way that he handled Teddy had absolutely no effect on her opinion of him. 

So what? He’s glorious with children? That doesn’t mean a single thing to me; it’s not like I’m a child or that I’ve ever thought that whoever he settles down with will be lucky to have someone like him to help raise their children. 

Hermione had been so distracted by her internal struggle that she hadn’t noticed the blond haired man moving towards her until he politely cleared his throat. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Granger. I hope that you’ve been able to find some amusement in this circus,” Septimus sneered, casting a haughty glance around the room. 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean. I think that it has been a delightful party. I can’t think of any better way to pass an evening.” 

“There may be fine music and frequent dancing, but that cannot diminish the stench of blood traitors,” he spat, a look of disgust clouding his aristocratic features, sending a shot of fear straight to Hermione’s chest. “With each half-breed and mudblood our magic grows weaker. How foolish it is to suppose that these unnatural abominations have any place within our world.” 

When Draco appeared in the doorway, Hermione could have kissed him. As soon as he saw her, trapped there with Septimus, he stormed over looking less than pleased. 

“There you are, dearest. I was beginning to fear that you’d gotten lost. We were just about to send out a search party when I found you here, of all places,” Draco smiled, taking her arm in his. “Thank you for looking after my wife, Mr. Malfoy. I could not bear it if anything bad came of her,” He added, stiffly bowing before leading Hermione as far away from the older Malfoy as he could manage. 

“Merlin, Granger. I tell you that Septimus has a raging hard-on for blood purity and you interpret that as a challenge?!” 

“Of course not, you ferret. I was only trying to get away from your constant questions when he descended upon me like some sort of vulture!”

“How strange it is that you call your husband a ferret,” an affected sounding voice wheezed next to them, “it is not an endearment that I am familiar with,” the voice continued, as a rather round man dressed in puce robes turned to address them fully. “Radolphus Lestrange, though I’m sure you already knew that much.” 

“Of course, sir. Draco Granger,” Draco responded, carrying out the same pleasantries he had with Septimus. 

“You must tell me the story of the ferret,” the Minister gasped, looking a little worn out. “First though, let us retire so that we may find somewhere more comfortable,” he continued, waddling towards the stairs and mounting them, not bothering to check if Draco and Hermione were following behind him. 

“Draco! This could be our chance!” Hermione whispered, grabbing onto his arm in excitement.

“Only if you play. It. cool. Granger.” He scolded, hurrying to catch up to the eccentric man who had made it halfway up the stairs. 

Hermione was practically vibrating with excitement as they followed Radolphus up the stairs, turning left when they reached the landing. She held her breath as they continued down the hall, toward the door she knew led into his bedchamber. 

“I hope it won’t bother you if I lie down. It has been many years since I’ve been young enough to stay for the entirety of a party.” 

“Of course, Minister,” Draco nodded politely. 

As Radolphus placed a fleshy hand on the door handle, Hermione thought she might burst with excitement. 

This is it! We can grab the Turner and get back home! She thought to herself, as she watched the door swing open. 

She never expected that as soon as she and Draco stepped across the threshold to the room, it would spring into action. Once again, the colors blurred and the room began to spin around them both. They watched in stunned silence as years passed, furniture and figures passing indiscriminately around them. 

“Just fucking brilliant, Granger,” Draco groaned through a clenched jaw. 

For once, Hermione appreciated his sarcasm. This was turning out to be a very long day.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Here's my gift to you, I hope you enjoy!

When the room stilled for the third time, Draco looked far from impressed with their situation. 

Upon first inspection, it was clear that a new occupant had taken over and changed the decor of the house once again. Everything was light and soft, the colors and fabrics were all pastel hued; blending in with the blues and greens filling the large windows. 

Once again, Draco moved to the bed, rummaging around in another vain attempt to locate their key home. While he was occupied, Hermione decided to search for any clues that might identify the current owners. 

She stopped at the dressing table, noticing a small folded piece of paper tucked behind a perfume bottle. Although she felt like she was snooping in things that she shouldn’t be, Hermione unfolded it; revealing a letter. Out of respect for both parties, she only let herself read the opening and signature. 

“Does Miss Beaufort mean anything to you? There’s a letter here addressed to her, but it’s only signed ‘C’.” Hermione asked over her shoulder. 

“Well, there are a number of Corvuses in the family, I suppose one of them might be the C in question. Beaufort doesn’t ring much of a bell though, sorry, Granger.” 

“Have you found anything that might give us any clues as to when we are, now? I can’t find anything that gives any great indication, but your expertise might be more useful.” 

“What a lovely compliment, I must say it feels good to finally be at the top of the class in something.” Draco teased, grinning at her. 

“Maybe next time it could be in something actually useful, like finding Time Turners.” she grumbled. 

“Aha!” Draco exclaimed, sending Hermione’s heart soaring. She could feel her pulse in her head as she turned to face him, already imagining him holding the time turner in one hand triumphantly. 

The smirk on Draco’s face was nothing short of a shit-eating grin. 

“Sorry, Granger. Looks like I need more practice with finding Time Turners, after all.” 

“I’m going to murder you, Draco Malfoy. I cannot believe that you would joke about something like that! We have to get out of here! There is no way that I could spend the rest of my life trapped in ye olden days pretending to be married to you!” 

“Now, now, Granger. I’m sure we could find a charming little church if it bothers you that much.” 

Suddenly, their conversation was interrupted by shouts floating in through the open windows. Hermione was rooted to the ground in fear as Draco stealthily made his way to the wall, angling his body so that he could look outside without being seen. Within seconds, his body softened and he made his way over to her. 

“It’s only some children, Granger. It looks like the mother and the nanny have them out in the garden for tea.” 

“That doesn’t account for the father’s whereabouts though, and that’s exactly who I find most worrisome.” 

“In that case, I propose we go for a stroll. If we can make it out of the house, we can pretend like we were taking a stroll through the park and decided to pay our compliments to the master of the house.” 

Thinking that Draco’s plan sounded completely far-fetched, and more than a little ridiculous, Hermione let out a rather unladylike snort. “You honestly think that anyone would believe two strangers would be taking a leisurely hike through someone else’s yard? That seems like a perfect way to get caught.”

“Remember, dearest, we aren’t at home anymore. It was rather common to host guests at random who had popped over to admire the grandeur of a house.” 

“Damn it. Now I understand what Lizzie felt when she was dragged along to Pemberley.” Hermione groaned, less than excited about the idea. 

“What in the hell are you on about, woman? Also, stop pretending that you aren’t Hermione Granger. You did not survive the War to turn into a shrinking violet at the first sign of trouble.” 

Damn it, Hermione. He’s right. You’ve been on edge since you got here. If you want to get back home, you’re going to have to act like it, Merlin knows that Malfoy won’t be able to do it alone. 

“Alright, Malfoy. Let’s get out of here. Maybe you’re onto something, we didn’t even get close to the turner until Radolphus pulled us aside; it’s likely that whoever owns the house now keeps it just as close.” 

“There’s the Granger I know. Although, before we do anything, we should probably change again.” Draco reminded her, before throwing open the wardrobe doors.   
Wordlessly, he handed over a dress for Hermione and pulled out day clothes for himself before stripping down with a level of nonchalance that only a Malfoy could master. 

Willing herself not to stare, Hermione turned away; slipping into the new dress, finding it much lighter and more comfortable than the previous one. The fabric was a fine silk, it hung close to her body, cinching around her waist with a beaded belt. The neckline and hem of the skirt were embellished with an intricate design of ribbons and bows that looped around to form a delicate lace. 

“Yes, I think that will do nicely.” Draco murmured, giving Hermione a once over that made her treacherous stomach fill with butterflies. For the sake of Merlin, Hermione. Focus on the task at hand. 

Once again, they snuck out of the bedroom, trying to be as noiseless as possible. They hurried down the stairs and out through the front door, narrowly missing a maid who passed through the entry hall on her way to the back gardens. 

Once they were safely outside, Draco pulled Hermione on to one of the gravel paths that wound their way through the careful array of flowers and shrubs. He gently folded her arms over his own, taking up an elegant posture as they pretended to admire the grounds of the estate. 

From here, Hermione could tell that this house had actually been a grand manor once. It was smaller than some others, like Malfoy Manor, she begrudgingly noted, but it was clear that the family had enjoyed a great deal of wealth. She wondered if Bellatrix and her husband had ever lived here, it would certainly explain the connection to Voldemort, she thought. 

“Yes, Granger. She did live here.” 

“How in the actual fuck did you know that?” 

“Err..you started rubbing your wrist. I figured that it wasn’t just for fun, and it’s not like it would be far fetched for you to be thinking about her, here of all places.” 

“Oh. Well, I guess that settles it, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Hermione.” Draco whispered, his voice soft in a manner that caught Hermione by surprise. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t stop her when she did that to you. You have no idea how sorry I am. I’ve never been able to forget that day, no matter how hard I’ve tried.” 

They had suddenly stopped, surrounded by flowering bushes and weeping willows waving in a warm breeze. Hermione felt a chill pass through her body as she found herself remembering Draco’s deranged aunt as she stood over her. She was only brought back to the present by Draco, who had gently reached out to brush away a tear that had escaped her eyes. 

In a heartbeat, Draco had pulled her into his chest; holding her tightly to him. Hermione was surprised when a choked sob escaped her throat, muffled only by Draco’s body. 

“Merlin, Granger. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry that you’re stuck here because of me and that I can’t get us back home. I must be the most useless partner on earth.” 

“No, Draco. Please, don’t feel bad on my part. None of it is your fault, not your aunt or being stuck here.” Hermione whispered, unable to raise her voice to a normal volume. She pulled away from his chest, smoothing her dress and wiping away any tears that had appeared. “We have to focus on the task at hand, rather than wasting our time on a woman who doesn’t even exist yet. What happened is over and done, and I’ll be damned if I let that bitch take any more of my life from me.” 

“There she is; there’s the Granger I know.” Draco smiled at her, setting her heart aflutter once again. 

“You’d better be careful what you wish for, Malfoy. You may find yourself with a rather bloody nose if you step out of line.” She teased, reminding him of his unfortunate incident in their fourth year. 

“Duly noted. Do not get on Hermione Granger’s bad side.” He quipped, taking up her arm and resuming their walk. 

Once again, Hermione was struck by the ridiculous nature of their arrangement, strolling around casually as if they were some happy couple. There is no way that she ever would have believed someone had they told her that she would be spending her day… or maybe days; pretending to be married to the boy who had plagued her school years. She probably wouldn’t have believed anyone who told her that she would be fighting on the same side as Draco Malfoy either, but here she was.

“Malfoy, what made you decide to become an auror?”

“Well, modelling wasn’t glamorous enough for me.” 

“Prat.”

“Alright, Granger. In all seriousness it seemed like something that could liberate me from the past. It helped to repair the family image, and it let me atone for some of my sins. Regardless of what I wanted in the War, I still did things that I’m not proud of, and I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make up for them.”   
“What was he like, if you don’t mind me answering?” 

“Despite the precision of your pronoun usage, I can’t say that I’m certain I know who you’re referring to.” 

“Voldemort. What was it like, being near him?” 

“It was fucking horrible. He sucked the light and color out of everything he touched. Once he had a grasp on you, there was nothing that you could do. I have no doubt that he would have willingly killed any of us if we jeopardized his success. There was a constant fear of death in the air, but after a while; especially at the end, some of us would have welcomed death with open arms. The more powerful he got the more deranged and bloodthirsty, and then once you lot started destroying his horcruxes, he snapped.” 

“Harry always said that he could feel Voldemort’s anger and fear when we destroyed a horcrux. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to be on the receiving end of that.” 

“It was always best to stay as far away as possible. That’s why mother sent me back to Hogwarts with the Carrows. The Dark Lord was convinced it was just to further infiltrate the castle, but she hoped that it would never get that far. No matter what though, it was surely better than staying at the Manor.” 

The two fell into a somber silence, both thinking back to everything that they had lost in the war. Of course Hermione knew that everyone on both sides had lost things, but she had never really considered how much they had sacrificed. For nearly all of the death eaters that were her age, they had been cleared of all charges; it was hard to say that children should have stood up to Lord Voldemort. Despite the decisions of the Wizengamot, she knew that there were plenty of people who didn’t think that any of them should have been excused. She saw the suspicious glances and surprised stares any time Draco was praised for his work, and she knew it had everything to do with the tattoo on his forearm. 

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me, Granger.” Draco whispered, interrupting Hermione’s thoughts. “I’ve come to terms with it all. If I keep dwelling on everything that he ruined, I won’t have anything left to rebuild with. Voldemort took enough from all of us, there’s no fucking way I’m going to let him have what’s left.” 

“I suppose we better start looking for that time turner, then.” Hermione smiled, steering them back towards the front door. “Do you think that the mysterious “C” will have it with him? That seems like it might be a problem.” 

“I don’t know, Granger. The Lestranges were always an odd bunch. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had done something unorthodox with it.” 

“I suppose they aren’t odd enough to hand it over if asked politely? I know that it would be unconventional, but it would certainly be helpful.” 

“Are you really that desperate? Worried that Ronald won’t be able to feed himself without you?” 

“I’m desperate to get home and take a hot bath; furthermore, I really don’t believe that Susan would appreciate me barging into her kitchen.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Obviously, Ron’s girlfriend, who is not me, can manage her relationship and the distribution of labor in whichever ways she sees fit.” 

“So, you and the King Weasel aren’t together, then? When did that happen?”

“Not that this is any of your business, Draco Malfoy, but Ron and I only dated for a few months after the War. We decided that we preferred being friends and split amicably, but the rest of the population never seems to have gotten that memo. Besides, aren’t you worried that you’ll miss a date with some bimbo?” 

“That isn’t very kind of you, Hermione. Just because you’re jealous of the women who accompany me to restaurants and bars doesn’t mean that they’re all bimbos.”

“I never said that they were all bimbos, Draco. Furthermore, I am not interested in you, so there is no reason that I would be jealous.” 

“You mean to tell me, Granger,” Draco began, mounting the steps in front of the house, “if I asked you to go on a date with me, you would say no?” he asked, giving her a small smirk. 

“I hardly think that matters, Malfoy, seeing as we’re stuck here where we’re already married.” Hermione replied, lifting the polished brass knocker and letting it fall against the door with a loud thud. 

Within a few seconds, a finely dressed servant swung open the door, politely inviting them inside. 

“Good Afternoon, Sir. My wife and I were hoping to pay our respects to the Master of this home.” Draco explained coolly, looking completely at ease with the situation. Wordlessly, the man turned on his heel and disappeared down a corridor they had not explored yet. 

Not wanting to risk their cover, Hermione decided that it would probably be best to stand quietly and wait for the servant to return. A few minutes later, the footman returned; this time with a powerful and quietly intimidating man following a few steps behind. 

‘How wonderful it is to have guests,” the man said, ignoring Hermione and approaching Draco, “I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.” He finished, giving a stiff bow before shaking Draco’s hand. “Corvus Lestrange, sir”. 

Hermione was glad that Draco had found them fine clothing, as she doubted that the current Lestrange would have bothered to greet them if they appeared to be beneath him in status. As Draco introduced them, Hermione did her best to look as unassuming and meek as possible, sure that anything else would be improper in the eyes of such a gentleman. 

“I must introduce you to my wife, it seems that Mrs. Granger is about the same age. I’m sure that they could find something in common to discuss while we talk about the more masculine pursuits.” 

“Of course, Sir. I’m sure that they would get along quite well. Fortune was certainly on my side when my parents chose my wife.” Draco replied, gently taking Hermione’s arm; following Corvus to the back of the house. 

It was obvious that he had felt Hermione stiffen at the idea of being alone with a Lestrange, as Draco gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I promise I won’t be far, and I swear that I won’t let anything bad happen to you. She’s with her children, I’m sure that she’ll be too distracted to wish any harm upon you.”

“I swear, if this is where your aunt got her personal brand of insanity from, I’ll kill you for leaving me.”

“Once more, I don’t think you need to worry. Corvus was on the other side of the family, Rodolphus seized the house from his line when he came of age. I don’t know much about this lot, but I don’t seem to remember them being particularly nasty.” 

“Thanks for trying, dear. I’ll be sure to remind myself of that when she goes for my throat.” Hermione quipped, not feeling hopeful, but thankful for Draco’s presence nevertheless. 

They had arrived at the large conservatory, but it was very different now than it had been the first time Hermione had been there. It was full of lush green plants, many seemed to be from far off places, that threatened to overtake the fine furniture placed throughout the room. The air was thick with humidity that smelled like rich, wet earth. While Hermione would have been content with staying inside, Corvus opened a door at the side of the room that had been disguised to appear as just another panel of glass.   
Hermione tried her best to quell the growing nervousness building in her stomach but couldn’t help but feel slightly faint at the prospect of facing another Bellatrix. Pausing at the threshold, Hermione reminded herself that neither of them knew what the mistress of the house would be like, and that people could full of surprises.

They were led onto the expansive patio where a woman with honey blonde hair sat, her back towards them, watching a few young children playing in the lush, green grass. The grounds were beautiful, it was no surprise to Hermione that the mistress of the house spent her time here. 

“My darling Heloise, it seems we have the most immense pleasure of hosting guests tonight.” 

“How lovely, Corvus.” the woman responded, turning to greet the two newcomers. 

She was beautiful, that was for certain. She had delicate features that paired well with her elegant clothing. She seemed light and ethereal, with the kind of quiet grace that was born rather than learned, and she intimidated the hell out of Hermione. 

“My dear, allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Granger.” Corvus explained, gesturing to Draco and Hermione, “Mrs. Granger is about your age, it seems that the two of you might enjoy each other’s companionship while Mr. Granger and I go for a walk.” 

“Of course, Corvus.” Heloise whispered, before turning to Hermione, “Come Mrs. Granger, would you like some tea?” 

“That would be lovely, Mrs. Lestrange.” Hermione smiled, casting one last nervous glance at Draco before allowing her new companion to lead her to the small wrought-iron table in the corner of the patio. 

While the woman next to her was certainly intimidating, Hermione took comfort in the presence of the children in the lawn; figuring that it was unlikely for anything bad to happen in front of them. 

“Are those your children, Mrs. Lestrange? They are positively adorable.” Hermione asked politely before taking a sip from the tea she had been given. 

“Only one, the boy there with the sandy hair, my dearest Corvus. I’m sure it is entirely predictable to name your child after your husband, but I suppose we are slaves to tradition, are we not?”

“Oh, I think it’s lovely. It’s a nice reminder of where we come from, isn’t it? I don’t think there’s anything unfashionable about that, Mrs. Lestrange.”

“Oh dear, please, call me Heloise. I positively detest when people call me Mrs. Lestrange. It always makes me feel like my husband’s mother is lurking over my shoulder. I’ve been married to Corvus for five years and I still haven’t stopped thinking of myself as Heloise Beaufort.” 

“I suppose you’re right, Heloise,” Hermione smiled, “In that case, call me Hermione. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like I’ve escaped the shadow of Draco’s mother.” 

“Is she terrible?” Heloise whispered, leaning forward as if she and Hermione were sharing some great secret. 

“Oh!, No, She isn’t terrible.” Hermione giggled, trying to think of how to describe Narcissa Malfoy. “She’s terribly elegant and put together, someone who throws the perfect parties and has the perfect dresses. I suppose it’s hard to be compared to someone so unfailingly perfect when you feel like anything but.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mrs. Granger. As much as I love my husband, marrying into his family has been far more difficult than I ever imagined. The comforts of the Lestrange name are a blessing, but they make it much harder to live without countless eyes watching everything.” Heloise smiled, taking Hermione’s hand in hers. “I do believe, though, that you don’t give yourself enough credit. You look impeccably dressed, and have shown me more easy kindness than anyone I’ve met since Corvus and I were introduced.” 

“You are too kind, Heloise. I could not bear the thought of having another person to compete with, I tire of the constant comparisons.”

Hermione was stunned at how easily the two women had fallen into a sort of friendship. Even with the century that separated them, she felt like Heloise understood her more completely than anyone had in a very long time. It was remarkable, how greatly her assumptions and reality varied in their treatment of Heloise Lestrange, and Hermione could not help but feel slightly guilty for her unfair judgement. 

“How did you and your husband meet then?” Heloise asked, gazing across the lawn where their husbands stood, obviously engrossed in their own conversation. 

“Oh, well...Draco and I had an arranged marriage.” 

“Is it a happy one then? If you don’t mind me asking.” Heloise murmured, taking a sip of her own tea. 

“Yes, of course. Draco is a shining example of a perfect husband.” Hermione replied, blushing deeply. 

“I can see, then, that he must be a shining example of a perfect lover as well. Your blush is positively virginal, Hermione.” 

Hermione felt herself blush even deeper at Heloise’s implication, unsure how she would navigate the conversation now that they had gotten into dangerous waters. 

“How long have you and your perfect husband been married then?”

“Only two months, now. We’re only just returning from our honeymoon.” Hermione lied, hoping that being newlyweds might provide a convincing cover for any awkward interludes and unfortunate blushes. 

“Oh dear, Hermione. I surely hope my teasing hasn’t made you uncomfortable, especially while you’re still getting used to wedded bliss!” 

“Of course not, Heloise! I must admit, it is certainly nice to have another married woman to discuss domestic life with, my mother was not very helpful in preparing me for married life.” 

“In that case,” Heloise replied, suddenly standing, “come with me, Hermione. I’m sure I have a trick or two up my sleeve that I can pass on to another woman. I believe it is our duty to look out for all of womankind, don’t you?” she finished, giving Hermione a wink as she extended her hand. 

Hermione allowed Heloise to steer them back towards the door that led back to the conservatory. As they reached the wall, Hermione began feeling a bit panicked, willing Draco to turn around so that he could see them vanish into the house. Would it really kill you to pay attention to something useful for once, you bloody ferret! Hermione thought to herself as she re-entered the house, effectively cutting her off from Draco. 

“Come now, Hermione. I have some things in my bed chamber that might be of particular interest to a new wife. I’m sure that we can find something that would truly dazzle your beloved, and you can help me find something to wear to dinner while we’re at it!” 

Once again, Hermione had the strange sense that she was spending an afternoon shopping with Ginny rather than in the home of a woman that had died long before Hermione had even been born. At least she’s good company Hermione conceded, and followed her new mentor back down the now familiar path to the bed chamber she had come to know quite well. 

Maybe I could discreetly ask Heloise if she knows anything about a time turner, then maybe we could actually get out of this damn time loop. 

“Heloise, I was wondering if you knew anything about time turners? My husband is very interested in them, and I thought I might get him one as a sort of wedding present.”   
“Of course I do, dear. Why the Lestrange and Beaufort families both have time turners that were some of the first ever made. They are tricky though, I’ve read about people using cheap time turners to disastrous results. Would you like me to have one of ours brought to me so that we can examine it together?” 

“Really? That would be so kind of you!” Hermione exclaimed, trying not to appear too eager as to look suspicious. 

“Of course, it really is no trouble!” Heloise smiled, one delicate hand resting on the handle to the bedroom door. She paused, snapping a finger and addressing the house elf that appeared out of thin air. “I need you to bring me one of the time turners, Mimsy, we’ll be in my chamber when you get back.” 

Without a word, the house elf vanished, and Hermione felt as if she might explode with excitement. This is it! I’ve done it! We can finally go back home! Despite her excitement to return to her flat and to escape the long skirts that she had been tangled up in, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if any of Draco’s teasing would continue in their own time. His kindness and blatant concern for her throughout everything that had happened had done nothing to extinguish the attraction that she had already felt for him. 

Absentmindedly, she stepped into the room after Heloise, immediately remembering the mistake she had made in doing so. As the room began transforming again, she felt panicked. Shit! Fuck! Where is Draco?! What if he’s stuck with Heloise and Corvus? What am I going to do?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay! I've been swamped with school work, and everything else has slid by the wayside! In an attempt to make it up to everyone who has been so supportive and positively lovely, I'll be posting the final two chapters back to back, and then the whole fic will be posted!!! Hooray! I can't thank you all for how INCREDIBLE you've been, it really warms this college student's cold, dead heart.

As the room erupted into a blur of colors once more, Hermione thought she would be sick. She had no idea what was happening to Draco, but she hoped with all of her heart that he wasn’t stuck without her. I really am going to strangle Harry when I figure out how to get us out of this mess, she promised herself. Traveling through time had been hard enough when she had Malfoy there to keep her company, now the thought of being dumped in some strange time was unbearable. 

The first thing that Hermione noticed this time was the noise. There were deafening horns and strings that seemed to come from every corner of the room, and the smell of smoke and musk lay upon the air like a blanket. 

Hermione thanked her lucky stars that the room was unoccupied once again, only just realizing how perilous the situation could have been otherwise. She quickly tried to find any sort of clue as to what year it was, overjoyed to see that someone had left out a fresh looking newspaper on the dressing table across the room from her. Curiously enough, the paper had been left open to the society pages, where at the top of the page, in large print it read, “Scamander and Lestrange Engagement” with an enchanted portrait of a handsome looking couple underneath. 

Hermione scanned the article that followed, gathering that a Leta Lestrange had gotten engaged to Theseus Scamander, Newt’s older brother, and that it was to be the biggest wedding of the year the following summer. Checking the date of the paper, August 29th, 1927, and using the portrait for reference, Hermione once again changed her costume, replacing her heavy petticoats with a light red silk shift dress dotted with golden crystals that hung limply to just below her knees. The flappers really were onto something, weren’t they? 

After trying her hair into a low bun at the nape of her neck, Hermione slipped out of the bedroom and into the hall, hoping that the noise and recent events were indicators of a party. Right, Hermione, let’s try to find Draco. IF he did get brought here along with you, he’ll probably be wherever you left him. Determined to find her partner, Hermione made her way back to the foyer, which was now full with hundreds of bodies swaying together in a writhing mass. 

Carefully, but with enough force to keep anyone from trying to stop her, she pushed through the crowd, hurrying off in the direction of the conservatory. When she arrived there, the tables and sofas of previous years had been replaced with large, lavish fountains that were spraying a golden mist into the air in delicate arches. Out of the crowd of indiscriminate faces, a striking woman with coal black hair approached her, extending an empty champagne flute. 

“Good evening, darling! I’m so jazzed you could make it tonight, isn’t it all just so lovely?” the woman asked Hermione, not showing any indication that she did not recognize her. 

“Positively, only I’ve lost my date somewhere in the party!” Hermione laughed, hoping that it came off as lighthearted, rather than hysterical. 

“Well, where’d you see him last? I’m sure he couldn’t have gone too far, you know how men are.” 

“He was in the corner of the lawn when I left him to use the loo.” Hermione replied, momentarily stunned when the woman grabbed her hand and led her out through the same door they had used with Corvus. It wasn’t until Hermione noticed the quite generous diamond shining on her companion’s left hand that everything finally clicked. This had to have been Leta Lestrange! That’s why her face had seemed so familiar, Hermione had just seen it in the paper. 

“What is your fella’s name then? And yours while we’re on the subject? Mine’s Leta, but I suspect you already knew that.” 

“He’s Draco. I’m Hermione. We’re friends of Theseus, it’s a pleasure to meet you though.” 

“Huh. You’d think I’d remember names like that. I’m sure that Theseus has told me all about you, but my mind is a sieve sometimes.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure that there isn’t much of interest about Draco and I to report to you.” Hermione half-joked, hoping that they wouldn’t run into Leta’s betrothed. Hermione knew she was skating on thin ice with a lie as easily disproved as the one she told Leta, but she was far more worried about finding Draco than she was blowing their cover. 

“So, what does this Draco of yours look like? Is he like Theseus, tall, dark, and handsome?” Leta asked over her shoulder, before pausing at the top of the stairs that joined the stone patio with the rolling lawn. 

“No, not quite. He’s tall and handsome, but his hair is so blonde it’s white.” 

“Well darling, I’ll keep my eyes peeled so lead the way.” 

“Not to sound ungrateful for your help, Leta, but shouldn’t you be with Theseus? This is your engagement party, after all.”

“Are you sure we know the same Theseus, honey? There isn’t much Theseus hates more than crowds and noise, but I live for them. I don’t believe there is anything better than the freedom of being just another face in the crowd. I don’t think he’ll even notice that I’m not there, and this goose chase is far more entertaining anyway.” She smiled, her hard-looking eyes softening around the corners. 

With that, Hermione led the two towards the corner of the garden where she had seen Draco last, just before Heloise had led her back up to that damned bedroom. Hermione was amazed that the grounds seemed to be choked with just as many people as the house was, the happy couple certainly seemed to be popular. It made their task exponentially more difficult, however, the absence of sunlight and the weak glow of the enchanted lanterns that hung about them did little to dispel the thick nighttime that had fallen over the gardens. 

Hermione could feel herself growing frantic as they neared the stone wall at the edge of the lawn, a renewed sense of fear washing over her as she was faced with the possibility that Draco, was not, in fact there. 

“Why don’t you go see if he snuck off into the hedge maze?” Leta asked, pointing towards a line of impressively high bushes “It’s the perfect kind of spot to sneak away together.” she elaborated, raising her eyebrows suggestively. “In the meantime, I’ll mingle out here, on the lookout.”

Realizing that the hedge maze may be her last hope, Hermione quickly hurried off, thanking Leta for all of her help before nearly trotting to the opening in the bushes. 

Sweet Merlin, I hope you’re in here Malfoy, she prayed, before hurrying down the narrow path, keeping one hand firmly entwined in the wall of leaves on her right side. At least these bloody mazes are predictable, if you know what you’re doing. 

It seemed like Hermione walked for hours, the noise and smells from the party no longer reached her, and yet she had still not reached the heart of the maze. Just as she was beginning to doubt that the walls of hedge would ever end, she reached an arch guarded by a wrought iron gate. 

She pushed it open, and stepped into the impressively large clearing. There were a few fountains spewing jets of water into the air and a cluster of immaculate marble sculptures at the center of the circular space. Hermione walked towards the space framed by the figures, feeling her heartbeat in her chest. When she finally saw a shock of bright white hair, she couldn't contain her relief. 

“Draco! Thank goodness you’re alright!”

When he faced her, Hermione knew that he was just as relieved. He still had not changed out of his clothing from their former stop, although he probably had no idea when they were. 

“It’s about fucking time, Granger. I thought I was going to grow old and die here, and we’re in a fucking time loop for fuck’s sake.” 

“How sweet of you dearest.” she shot back, rolling her eyes at his irritation. “It’s not as if I wasn’t stuck here too. Besides, I’m sure that Harry would have sent me back in time to recover you, you’re too much of a fucking liability.” 

“Enough about that, what in the hell is going on now? You’ve apparently been out and about while I’ve had to stay hidden away in this bloody maze.” 

“We are currently at the engagement party of Leta Lestrange and Theseus Scamander, today is August 29th, 1927.” she answered smugly, glad to have a solid upper hand over her cranky partner. 

“At least we seem to be going forward in time, rather than backwards; however this may pose a distinct problem if we don’t find our way to that damn time turner soon.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I think we’re rapidly running out of the good Lestranges, if you catch my drift, Hermione. If we stay here much longer we’re going to end up at sleepaway camp with Voldemort, which is certainly something I never want to do again, thankyouverymuch.” 

“Right, then. We should figure out a plan while we’re still in this maze. There are far too many people out there for us to fly by the seats of our pants on this one, Draco.” 

“I don’t know what kind of plan you expect us to make. Have you checked the bedroom already?” 

“Shit. Fuck. It totally slipped my mind when I left earlier, but as soon as we try to go back, we’re just going to get thrown into another time.” 

“God damn it, Granger! What in the hell were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking, you complete arse, that I needed to find you, more than anything.” 

“Fuck me, Hermione! What if the turner was in that room? We’d be absolutely fucked. Let’s hope you can keep that Gryffindor temper and pride in check with Voldemort starts going on about how much he hates anything that isn’t purebred.” Draco groaned, collapsing on the same stone bench he had been seated at when Hermione arrived. 

“Fine, Malfoy, let’s just throw caution to the wind! I’ll just go ask Leta Lestrange where they keep the bloody thing so that we can both get home.” Hermione seethed, storming off in the direction she had entered from. 

Startlingly enough, the wrought iron gate had disappeared. She slowly looked around the circle of shrubs, looking for the arch that had led her here, but found nothing. 

“Draco?” she asked, unsure of what was going on. 

“What now, Hermione?”

“The path I used to get here, it’s gone. We’re trapped in the middle of this maze.” 

“Bloody fucking brilliant. This really is hopeless, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t understand...how could it just vanish?” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re a witch. Magical things do happen to witches and wizards every now and then.” 

“But why would the maze close us up here? There has to be some reason this magic is working at this particular time, we both know that.” 

“Fate is taking the piss, Granger. We’re doomed to be married forever and live out the rest of our days eating grass in our own hell-ish version of Eden.” 

Hermione let out a dry laugh, seeing the irony in Draco’s words, that only momentarily suppressed the shaking sobs that surged forth out of her chest before sinking to the grass. 

“We can’t be trapped here forever, there are still so many things that I want to do with my life.” she sobbed, mourning the loss of her future husband and children, nights with the Potters, even days at work. She grieved for everything that she would lose if they really were stuck here and, for once, Hermione Granger felt completely powerless. 

“Don’t cry, Hermione, please don’t cry.” Draco whispered, joining her on the grass before wrapping his arms around her in a surprisingly comforting, and comfortable embrace. 

“What in the hell are we going to do, Draco? We have nothing here, no money, no home, no family or friends. It’s not like we could show up at Malfoy Manor and as your great- grandparents to take us in when your father hasn’t even been born yet.” 

“We have each other, Hermione, I swear to you, no matter what happens I’ll be with you.” 

“We can’t even get out of this FUCKING maze, Draco! We’re going to fucking die here, and everything we’ve ever done will all be for nothing.” 

“Don’t you say that, Granger. You’re a hero. You saved so many people. You’re so good and pure, you don’t deserve to die here with a pathetic bastard like me.” 

The descended into silence, both feeling completely miserable. 

“I never got to take you out, Granger. I never had the chance to convince you to take a chance on me.” 

“What? You’ve always hated me, Malfoy. We’ve rarely had a civil conversation before today.” 

“Merlin, fuck. Hermione, I am totally and completely bewitched by you. I’ve convinced myself that I’m entirely wrong for you and it has driven me fucking mad. I’ve been a total dick so that you wouldn’t want to get close to me because I cannot handle the thought of your throwing your life away to be with me, hell even just to take a chance on me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make up for the things that I’ve done and what I’ve seen, and I could never put that on you. You’re too special to be brought down by my shit.” Draco whispered, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice the shaking of his hands. 

“You’re a fucking moron, Draco Malfoy.” she replied, taking his hands in hers, “An absolute idiot.” 

“That’s Draco Granger to you.” He teased, looking at their entwined hands with a small smile. 

“No, not yet. I swear, there has to be some goddamn reason that we’re stuck in this maze and I’m going to figure it out if it’s the last thing I do.” 

“There’s she is.” Draco chuckled, “I’ll just be sitting on this bench if you need me.” 

Hermione ignored him, taking a lap around the clearing to search for any hints. 

“Alright, there are 13 statues here, and they obviously depict Roman Gods, and they’re the only things here.” 

“How’d you know they’re Roman? What if they’re Greek and you’re about to get us fucked?” 

“First, the Romans stole their Gods from the Greeks, so it really wouldn’t matter. Second, these togas are obviously Roman, not Greek.” 

“I really don’t know why you would have ever taken the time to study Greek and Roman togas, but I’ll be damned if I’m not grateful you did, Granger.” 

“That’s very nice, Malfoy, now be quiet so I can think.” 

Think, Hermione. Eagle, that one has to be Jupiter then, Hermione decided, slowly making her way back around the circle to get a second look at the statues. 

“Wait! There are only 12 major Gods and there’s 13 statues here! One is odd, and I’ll bet anything that it’s the key to getting the hell out of here!” 

“That’s bloody fucking brilliant, Granger!” Draco exclaimed, jumping up from the bench before sweeping Hermione into a hug, lifting her off of the ground. 

“Thank you for the enthusiasm, Malfoy, but I still have to figure which one isn’t right.” She giggled. 

“I’ll help then, tell me what we need to look for.” 

“Okay, well, that one,” Hermione said, pointing towards one of the statues, “is Jupiter, there’s an eagle at his feet. Juno will probably have a peacock…” 

“Here! I’d recognize one of those fuckers anywhere.” Draco shouted, elaborating when he noticed Hermione’s confused expression, “my mother insists on keeping those damn birds at the Manor. Every single time I try to walk through the gardens at least one of them attacks me.” 

Hermione couldn’t help the snort she let out, certainly enjoying the mental image of Draco fleeing from a particularly vicious peacock. 

“Oi, you, genius, I really need you to keep telling me what we’re looking for if you ever want us to get out of here.” 

“Right, erm, Neptune, anything from the sea and his trident.” 

“The one with the curly hair over there?” 

“The very same, Malfoy.” 

“Sort of looks like yours, don’t you think Granger?” 

“I didn’t hear that, Malfoy. On to the next, Pluto has a helmet.” 

“Looks like a prick, doesn’t he?” 

“Considering he was the God of the Underworld, I don’t imagine he’d be terribly pleasant.” 

“Alright Granger, this is too easy, give me some rapid fire ones.”   
“Ceres, wheat and pigs; Vulcan, fire and metal; Minerva, an owl; Venus, seashells and doves; Mars, spear and vulture; Apollo, lyre...”

“Wait, what in the hell is a lyre?”

“It’s like a small harp, he’s the one over there” Hermione answered, pointing in the direction of the statue. 

“Right, I’ve found all of the others, what’s left?” 

“Diana, bow and arrow; Mercury, winged helmet and sandals; and Bacchus, grapes.” 

“Well then, Granger, that one there is the odd one out.” Draco grinned, pointing at the last statue, one of a man holding a large sickle. 

“Of fucking course!” Hermione yelped, smacking her forehead, “Saturn is the father of the gods, and he’s the god of time! How could I have missed something so obvious?” 

“Alright, so now what?” 

“I don’t know yet, there has to be something else.” 

Hermione and Draco simultaneously moved to inspect the statue further, but Hermione was baffled. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place, and the statue’s smile had begun to feel more mocking than genuine. 

“Weird, this brooch-thing has an upside down A on it.” Draco remarked, pointing up at a small round seal on the shoulder of the toga. 

“Draco! That’s the seal of the harvest but it’s upside down! We must have to turn it!” 

“Well, get over here and do the honors then, Granger!” 

Hermione held her breath as she reached to turn the symbol, hoping that it hadn’t been an accidental mistake on the sculptor’s part. Her fingers trembled as she grasped the cool stone, willing herself to twist it. 

“What are you waiting for, Hermione?”

“What if I’m wrong?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re the Brightest Witch of Our Age, Granger, now turn your hand so we can get out of this maze!”   
Finally, Hermione twisted her wrist, delighting in the grating of stone against stone as the emblem made its way back to its proper position. When it had completed its rotation, the emblem suddenly slid off of the statue, weighing down her hand. Instinctively Hermione turned the emblem over, feeling faint when she saw what the emblem had been hiding. 

“Draco, look!” 

“Merlin, Hermione, you found it!” Draco grinned, scooping her into his arms once again, before kissing Hermione firmly on the lips. 

Before Hermione could process what was happening, she was returning the kiss, feeling herself melt into the embrace. 

When they separated, Hermione was breathless. 

“Wow,” Draco breathed, “You are truly one of a kind, Granger.” 

Hermione felt her face spread into a wide grin, unable to contain the giddy joy that was spreading in her chest. 

“Well, Hermione, what do you say to getting out of here? I can’t die until I’ve taken you on a proper date, you know?” 

“As long as you promise to kiss me like that when you do, Malfoy.” she smiled back at him. 

Draco took a hold of one of Hermione’s hands as she tipped the emblem over his open palm, sending the time turner tumbling out it’s hiding spot. 

“Anything for you, Granger. I mean it.” Draco whispered, gently slipping one of the golden chains over Hermione’s head before doing the same for himself. 

“How about tonight then? 7:00?” 

“You name the time and date, and I’ll be there.” 

With that, Hermione began carefully rotating the time turner, being sure to give it the right number of flicks to get them back home.


	5. Chapter 5

Draco wasted no time in bursting into Harry Potter’s office, time turner in hand. 

“Alright Potter, here’s your damn time turner. Now, I’m leaving and if you even think about contacting me tonight, I’ll hex you with everything I’ve got.” Draco threatened, throwing the time turner onto Harry’s desk unceremoniously, “Oh, and don’t bother Hermione tonight either, she has a date.” he added, before quickly turning on a heel and exiting the office. 

He paused in the doorway to give Hermione a kiss on the cheek as she entered her friend’s office, giving her hand a quick squeeze before making his way toward the floos. 

“What in the hell was that about, Hermione? Where did Malfoy get those ridiculous clothes?” 

“Oh, that. The time turner sort of got broken and we kind of got sent back in some time loop, but we managed to find it again and here it is! We were a bit preoccupied and I suppose he forgot about his clothes.” 

“So, are you going to actually tell me what happened, then?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Sure, Harry, first thing tomorrow. I have to meet Draco at 7:00” Hermione replied as she turned to leave. 

“Wait, don’t you have a date tonight?” 

“Yeah, it’s why I’m leaving, so I can go home and get ready. I’ll see you tomorrow, Harry!” 

It wasn’t until Hermione had already disappeared in the bright green flames of the floo that Harry realized what she had meant. 

“Holy shit, wait until Ginny hears about this” Harry thought to himself with a chuckle, wondering what about the Lestrange Manor had finally driven the two together as he examined the time turner in front of him.


End file.
